


Around which the heavens pulse

by lafiametta



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Hold onto your hats, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prompt Fill, Rated E for a reason, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-05 22:59:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18375827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lafiametta/pseuds/lafiametta
Summary: In the shadowed recess of the passageway, Jopson nodded, pale throat catching as he swallowed tightly. Those sea-colored eyes drank Edward in, hinting at everything the steward wished to say but did not fully dare, at least not with the two captains within possible earshot.“Wait for me until six bells,” he murmured, the words falling from his lips like spools of silk, “and I will show you how much I missed you.”





	Around which the heavens pulse

**Author's Note:**

> So I got this prompt on Tumblr - "I'm assuming you've seen [that Lopson art from the kinkmeme over on AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16924767/chapters/42480476)? If you have, I would looooove for you to write something inspired by it, maybe something telling the story of how the boys got into that blissful position??" - and I was unable to resist. The explicit stuff isn't necessarily my forte, but I suppose we should all try to get out of our comfort zone sometimes! Thank you so much to the lovely onstraysod for her advice and encouragement as my beta. And the title, as always, is from Rainer Maria Rilke. Enjoy!

Lead parties commenced in the spring, each under the command of a single lieutenant. Edward, of course, was no exception, and he and Irving’s parties departed on the same late April morning, one headed east, the other west, instructed to search for no longer than three days before making their way back to the ship. On the return trip, however, an unexpected storm kept Edward’s group sheltering in their tents for the better part of two days, so it was more than a week before they were finally able to glimpse the spired outline of _Terror_ ’s masts against the stark white emptiness of the ice.

Sir John and Captain Crozier were the first to hear his report – even more disappointing once he learned that Irving, too, had failed to discover any sign of a thaw – and then Edward was dismissed, ordered to return to his regular duties. But as he stepped from the great cabin, he could not stop himself from pausing just outside the doorway and turning to speak to the man who stood there, still as any sentry.

“Tonight,” he whispered, both as an invitation and a promise, as he reached up to rub the wool lapel of Jopson’s waistcoat between his thumb and his forefinger. “I have missed you.” The rest remained unspoken: how each night he had laid awake in the tent long after the others had fallen asleep, his mind occupied with lascivious thoughts of the steward, his hand slipping down to ease the ache of his burgeoning desire.

In the shadowed recess of the passageway, Jopson nodded, pale throat catching as he swallowed tightly. Those sea-colored eyes drank Edward in, hinting at everything the steward wished to say but did not fully dare, at least not with the two captains within possible earshot.

“Wait for me until six bells,” he murmured, the words falling from his lips like spools of silk, “and I will show you how much I missed _you_.”

It took every inch of Edward’s instinct towards self-preservation not to press the steward up against the wall right then and there, to strip the clothes from his long, lean body, and then see to his pleasure in ways that would have him weeping from need. His nostrils flared, taking in a sharp, altogether unsteady breath, and somehow he found the strength to turn and continue along the passageway, leaving Jopson to his own duties for the time being.

The hours that followed were the longest that any man could have reasonably borne, the rest of the evening an exercise in self-imposed denial that had every nerve in his body entirely on edge, his prick already turning half-hard against his leg. Twice during dinner, Jopson brushed against his shoulder as he reached over to fill a glass – perhaps on accident, but likely something far more deliberate, a provocation aimed at reminding Edward of what awaited them once they finally found themselves alone.

Never had the officers’ conversation in the wardroom seemed more dull, their evening pastimes in the great cabin more tedious. Edward did his best not to appear peevish or impatient – that would only invite questions he did not want to answer – yet he found himself glancing at his watch on more than one occasion.

Finally, they were allowed to take their leave and depart for their own cabins, all except Jopson, who followed after the captain to assist him in his preparations for bed. Edward would never have described himself as a particularly jealous man, but at that instant, imagining Jopson at the captain’s knee, tugging at his boots – or perhaps divesting him of other articles of clothing or turning down the smooth expanse of bed linens – brought a flare of hot resentment to his cheeks, one he must not have taken pains enough to hide. He was fortunate, then, that the steward seemed to be the only man to notice it, for he glanced back towards Edward and caught his eye, a warm, inviting smile playing along his lips. _Soon_ , he mouthed, and then disappeared behind the captain’s door.

It was only for the sake of that _soon_ that Edward sheepishly nodded and retreated to his cabin, where he made every attempt to occupy himself until the appointed time, all ending in abject failure. He could no more craft the sentences for the day’s entry in his logbook than he could keep his eyes steady on the lines of Milton that he sat with for a good quarter hour before tossing the book down in frustration. The only paradise he could conceive of at that moment was the one he hoped soon to find in the embrace of Thomas Jopson, the only sin he would countenance was one he would commit willingly, blissfully, without a trace of shame.

At long last he heard the soft pattern of steps along the passageway, the sound nearly swallowed by the continual groan of the ice surrounding the ship’s hull. It might have seemed like nothing more than a creak of the boards as they settled into place, if not for the fact that Edward’s door began to inch open, seemingly of its own volition, and from the darkness emerged a face he had anticipated so many times he wondered if he might possibly be dreaming it.

It came closer and he no longer had to wonder.

They found each other without prelude, a frenzy of hands and mouths that each sought their fill, their hunger borne out of shared desire and the strain of a week’s separation. The world disappeared for Edward, lost as he was in the pure and immediate sensation of Jopson’s lips parting to the eager demands of his own, a powerful wave of lust surging through his body as he encountered the slippery edge of a tongue and felt it begin to lap greedily against the warmth of his mouth. He groaned, prick stirring back to life inside the tight confines of his trousers, and he pulled Jopson closer, their hips fully flush, wanting him to know precisely the effect he was having. Perhaps he should not have been surprised to find Jopson had grown equally roused, the thick swell at his groin pressing delectably against Edward’s own need.

“When you weren’t back within a week,” Jopson panted, as Edward marked a line of kisses down the side of his neck, “I didn’t know what to do.”

Edward stilled, letting his breath spill against the steward’s ear. “Did you think something had happened?”

“I don’t—” Jopson shook his head: a small, barely discernible movement. “I didn’t want to think about it.”

Edward pulled back so he could meet Jopson’s gaze directly – even tinged with worry, those pale eyes were still beautiful enough to want to drown in – and reached up to clasp the stubbled edge of his jaw.

“There was a storm,” he murmured. “We had to keep to our tents for several days.” Leaning in, he pressed a feather-light kiss to the corner of Jopson’s mouth, and then another to the opposite side. “I thought of you every night I was gone.”

“Did you?” The steward’s eyes had fallen closed, a faint smile forming on his lips, already pursed in anticipation of where Edward’s next kiss might land.

“Mhmmm,” Edward hummed, the vibration coursing through his veins and coiling within the warm depths of his belly. “I dreamed of this moment, of having you right here.” His third kiss was stronger, a touch more demanding, aimed just at the dark pink center of Jopson’s lower lip. He could hear the catch in the steward’s breath, and he pressed further, teasing gently as the other man’s mouth opened once more to his, the flames of their mutual hunger quickly reigniting.

Spurred on by their desire, they began to scramble against each other, fingertips fumbling at waistcoat buttons, hands grasping to pull shirttails free from trousers, all in the desperate hope of finding more of each other to touch. Edward’s hands slipped under the hem of Jopson’s shirt, luxuriating in the feel of that smooth, uninterrupted flesh as he grasped him soundly by the waist, and then he began to steer the steward back towards the narrow bunk, not stopping until they could go no further without collapsing down onto it. Tearing their mouths apart only for a moment as they stripped themselves of each layer of fabric, waistcoats fell to the floor and untucked shirts were unceremoniously pulled up and over their heads. Edward reached for the front of Jopson’s trousers, and before long the row of buttons lay unfastened, his fingers slipping past drawers to take Jopson fully in hand. Against his palm, the steward felt firm and feverishly warm, his length growing harder as Edward stroked, gently at first and then with greater vigor. Jopson moaned into his mouth, a rough, needful sound that had Edward’s own prick aching in response.

Edward grinned; the steward was teetering on the precipice, and he knew that a few forceful turns of the wrist would easily bring him to completion. But he had had more than just this in mind when he had fantasized about their reunion – and as enticing as Jopson was, with his bright flushed cheeks and his pupils turned wide and dark with need, Edward knew he would look even lovelier once fully stripped of his clothes, lying atop Edward’s bunk.

Jopson groaned in protest as Edward extracted his hand, but only for a moment, once he saw how Edward had begun to tug off his boots and unfasten the buttons of his own trousers. The steward followed suit, hastily discarding the rest of his clothing – trousers stripped off all at once with his drawers – until he was entirely bare, looking as smooth and pink as an oyster, his prick jutting out from a nest of thick, dark curls. The rest of him was just as marvelous: all lines and planes, visible in the golden glow of the lantern light, muscles meeting at the contours of his hip, along the length of calf and thigh. The pale skin of his chest and arms was marked with a fine dusting of black hair, his belly smooth but for a single line tracing the path from navel to groin.

Jopson clambered up onto the bunk and pushed himself back towards the wall, leaving some space beside him on the bed. After he finally extricated himself from the remaining leg of his drawers, Edward soon followed. Confined by that narrow bunk, with barely enough room for himself alone, he wasted no time in turning Jopson onto his back, and from that position began a thorough exploration of the steward’s body, starting with his all-too-willing mouth and proceeding south in orderly progression. For more than a week, he had imagined what this would be like – having Jopson laid out underneath him like the most appetizing of meals – and the reality of it was far outpacing the fancies he had conjured up in his own mind.

No inch of flesh went undiscovered: not the sensitive hollow of his jaw, not those rosy-pink nipples, not the tiny flare of muscle connecting waist to hip. Jopson’s hands gripped him tightly, along his ribs, then his shoulders, and finally winding themselves into his hair. All of Edward’s attentions were accompanied by the sound of the steward’s increasingly labored breathing, a low, pleading whine falling from his lips – and before long, Edward had migrated far enough to find himself fully positioned between the other man’s legs, his body nestled in the cradle of those slender hips.

He grasped a knee, running his palm along the outside of Jopson’s flank, and then pushed it back, if only to allow himself better access to the tender white flesh of his inner thigh. There he teased, lips and tongue and teeth each employed in turn, while his hand traced upward, once more taking the steward’s hard and swollen length into his grasp.

Jopson threw his head back, his mouth widening into a noiseless cry. “Please,” he breathed out. “Please, Edward… will you? Your mouth? I can’t… I need you.”

Edward smiled, then shifted himself into place; when asked so politely, how could he be anything but obliging? Over the past two months, they had come to know even more of each other, and learning how much pleasure Jopson took in this particular act had been a continual source of wonder and delight to Edward. It would be altogether cruel to deny him. Slipping his hand down towards the base of Jopson’s prick, he dragged the flat of his tongue along its length – momentarily breathing in that sweet musk that never failed to set his senses aflame – and then drew the head fully into his mouth.

He set himself to his task with enthusiasm, taking in as much of Jopson as he dared, circling his tongue back and forth against that velvet-soft hardness, all while tugging and stroking with his hand, a desperate rhythm that echoed the rough pulse of blood in his veins. Even in the chilled air of his cabin, Edward felt sweat beginning to dampen under his arms and at the backs of his knees. Fingers threaded into his hair, tender and encouraging, and he glanced up, only to see that Jopson’s eyes had fluttered shut, his expression one of pure abandon.

Pausing for a moment, he pulled back and quickly thrust two fingers into his mouth, slicking them as best he could against his tongue. The sensation of warmth and wet against his own skin was electric, sending a searing jolt of desire directly to his groin, where he was already stiff and achingly aroused. Setting aside his own needs – at least for the time being – Edward turned his attentions back to his lover and let lips and tongue continue in their ministrations. But he allowed his fingers to dip further, past Jopson’s bollocks and the smooth bit of flesh just beyond, until they reached that puckered entrance. There he began to stroke and circle, keeping pace with the unrelenting motion of his mouth, pressing just enough until he felt the tight ring of muscle start to give way to his touch.

Jopson arched his back as Edward’s fingers slid further, past the first knuckle, then the second, his thigh muscles straining with effort to contain the sensation. Edward pushed deeper, curling his fingertips the slightest bit inward, and then began to pump rhythmically, in and out, watching with deep-seated satisfaction as Jopson shuddered and canted his hips upwards to take even more. With a quick dip of his head, Edward spit against his fingers and slowly eased in a third, giving the steward enough time to adjust before he began to stroke.

“Is that…?” he murmured. “Are you alright?”

Jopson nodded wildly. “Oh god, yes. Just… just _there_.”

Edward continued in his efforts, fingers kept well in place as he slid them back and forth, pressing until he found the spot that made the steward groan and squeeze his eyes tight with pleasure. Jopson’s prick was blush-red and swollen stiff; as it bobbed against his stomach, Edward could see the tip was already glistening with wetness. Satisfied that the steward was ready for him, he offered him one final stroke before extracting his fingers, and moved to settle himself between Jopson’s open thighs.

Before he could begin, however, Jopson abruptly sat up and pushed Edward over and onto his back. If he was at all surprised by the steward’s sudden display of dominance, he did his best not to let it show. Wasting no time, Jopson playfully straddled him, a knee on either side of his hips, and leaned down for a kiss, a greedy, grasping thing that left Edward entirely breathless.

“I said I would show you how much I missed you,” the steward whispered against his lips.

He drew himself down the length of Edward’s body, pausing to flick his tongue against a nipple and gently catch its raised nub in between his teeth. The combination of pleasure and pain was explosive: Edward hissed and his hips bucked up in response, as if a radiating line had been drawn directly from chest to groin. With a coy smile blossoming along the corners of his mouth, Jopson shifted further back, and with little warning took Edward in hand and wrapped his lips around his length. Edward groaned, adrift in a sea of pure sensation, and as he glanced down, he found himself caught in that pale green gaze, caught in the heat and the dizzying pull of the connection between them. Jopson tongued him roundly – just enough to leave Edward slick and fully wanting – and then rose back onto his knees, grasping Edward’s prick and positioning himself just above it.

Edward bit against his lip as Jopson slowly lowered himself down, inch by agonizing inch, until it felt as if his entire being was being enfolded into that tight heat, all of creation reduced to the single point of their joining. He wanted nothing more than to thrust, to drive upward into the welcoming warmth of the steward’s body, to lose himself to that deep and blissful rhythm – yet he remained still, letting Jopson set the pace he needed. With a small gasp, Jopson dropped his hips, at last taking Edward in fully, and he paused there for a moment, eyes closed, lips sensuously parted.

And then, gloriously, he began to move.

The muscles of his thighs grew taut as he drew himself up and down along Edward’s length like a piston, again and again, each stroke longer and sweeter than the last. Edward skimmed his palms up past Jopson’s knees, grasping lightly, reveling in the feeling of his lover moving under his hands. Balanced above him, the steward was truly magnificent to behold, dark hair falling against his sweat-flushed brow, eyes turned glassy with desire, each sculpted hollow and contour of his body thrown into stark relief by the light of the lantern. It was impossible to imagine a sight more arousing. And as Jopson rode hard upon him, Edward’s prick throbbed in rough beats, waves of fire licking hot along his skin.

He ran his hands down Jopson’s flanks, past his hips, and gripped along the firm curves of his arse. Edward had no wish to restrain him, for the steward’s body was now moving with a barely-contained frenzy that was pushing him even closer to the limit of his self-control, but he held on regardless, clutching in desperation at that pliant, fevered flesh. Jopson’s mouth curved up wickedly as he pitched himself forward, palms landing against Edward’s chest, and from there used his position for even greater leverage. Edward couldn’t help himself: his hands were full, grasping at anything he could, even as it felt as if he could never have enough. With his feet flat along the mattress, he folded his knees up, giving his lover something to push back against, and he tugged at Jopson’s shoulders to pull him down even closer.

Their lips met once, twice, as they breathed each other’s name, calling out wordlessly in shared pleasure.

They rocked back and forth against each other, Edward doing his best to meet his body’s demand that he press upward, but still, he needed more, and he could not contain himself any longer. Pushing Jopson off him, he rolled him over onto his back – perhaps too roughly, although the steward did not seem to mind overmuch – and quickly maneuvered himself between the other man’s thighs. With one swift move, he slid home, sheathing himself entirely within that tight, yet yielding, warmth.

Jopson whimpered, either from pleasure or pain – or perhaps even both – and let his head fall back upon the bed as Edward cautiously shifted his hips. He began at first with long, slow strokes, giving the steward time to adjust to him once more, but before long Edward felt himself surrendering to that most primal of rhythms, and he began to quicken his pace, the sound of skin against skin a rough echo of Jopson’s panting breaths. His prick felt monstrously hard, sensitive to the slightest shift of angle or movement. It only intensified as the steward’s legs lifted to wrap around his waist, thighs squeezing with each thrust, as if he meant to hold Edward close against him with little opportunity for escape. Edward, of course, had no thought to be anywhere else; he had no thoughts at all, no consideration of anything besides the endless churning sea of his own desire, no conception of the world beyond the pleading moans and desperate, lust-dark eyes of Thomas Jopson.

Whether due to the steward’s natural enticements or their week of separation, it did not take very long until he felt himself growing close to the edge, warm waves of pressure building deep in his groin. But before Edward could reach down to take the steward in hand – something they found would often bring them both to completion at near the same time – Jopson unexpectedly cried out and clenched around him, his body arching back in pleasure. Thinking only to assist him further, he moved his hand closer to Jopson’s prick, only to have him swat it away.

“No,” he breathed, “I want to feel it. It’s…” His mouth fell open as he cried out again. “Please, don’t stop.” His legs dropped down to hook behind Edward’s thighs and he began to clutch wildly at his shoulders.

Edward needed no further encouragement: he began to thrust harder, driving relentlessly into those warm depths, every stroke wringing raw sounds of desperation from the steward’s lips. He was pure sensation, caught up in the feeling of his lover’s body as it sought to merge with his, intoxicated by how astonishingly beautiful Jopson looked at just that moment, lips parted in an expression of abject wantonness, ink-black hair falling back along the pillow. And then all at once, the steward seized tight against him, and Edward watched in astonishment as seed began to erupt from his untouched prick, spilling against his shuddering belly.

“Come with me,” Jopson pleaded, in between ragged gasps. “Now.”

Such words were more than enough to push Edward entirely to the brink, and he thrust once more as his release overtook him, a burst of heat and white light that consumed him as it pulsed across his body, outward from his groin and down his arms and legs, even to the very edges of his fingertips. His mouth opened in a stifled roar and all he could hear was the echoing sound of blood as it thundered heavy in his ears.

They lay still for a moment, limbs entwined and slick with sweat, until Edward regained enough of himself to move. Slipping from the warm haven of Jopson’s body, he quickly wiped them both clean with a loose corner of bed linen, then lay back down and pulled the steward into his arms. The bunk was so regrettably narrow – what he would have given for the luxury of a spacious four-poster bed! – but they managed to shift onto their sides, legs tangling in sated exhaustion. He pulled a blanket up over their bodies, a small protection against the chill of the cabin.

Edward wanted so much to close his eyes and drift away to a well-earned sleep, but he was equally hesitant to give up a single moment of having Jopson in his bunk, warm and entirely unclothed, his arms looped lightly around Edward’s neck. He leaned in closer, pressing a drowsy kiss to the steward’s lips. 

“Am I forgiven for having left you for so long?”

Jopson’s rosy-flushed cheeks rounded with a smile, and even in that confined space he managed a tiny shrug of his shoulders. “I suppose so,” he murmured, and then drew himself more tightly around Edward, tenderly tucking his face against the crook of Edward’s neck as the rest of his body settled into place alongside him.

For a few moments, they held each other, hearing only the slowing hush of their breath and the groan of the ice that surrounded them.

“Will you be sent out again, do you think?” Jopson asked.

Edward quietly exhaled. “Hodgson will go next, with Gore and Le Vesconte. Let us hope that one of them is able to bring back a promising report.”

Jopson said nothing, only nodding softly in acceptance. Like the rest of the men, Edward could only pray that the lead parties would finally prove successful and that the coming summer would see them free of the pack and well on their way to the Pacific. All three lieutenants were seasoned officers, and Gore in particular seemed to draw good fortune towards him like a lodestone. Surely one of them would achieve what he and Irving had not? What he would not confess to Jopson – what he could barely reconcile within himself – was the sense of overwhelming despair that had washed over him on the third day of the lead party, just before he had made the order to return to the ship. No matter which direction he turned, the ice had stretched on mercilessly, perhaps to the very edges of the earth, a terrible white maw that seemed poised to swallow them whole. He had said nothing to the men, of course, and shook the notion from his mind, knowing such irrationalities to be of small use to anyone. 

And now, wrapped in the comfort of his lover’s arms, it felt even more foolish to indulge in such strange and unproductive thoughts. Instead, he would close his eyes and give himself over to sleep, and there he would contentedly dream of summer days in English gardens and long nights with Thomas Jopson in a bed built large enough for two.


End file.
